


Santa's Got a Secret

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, F/M, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percival gets Arthur for the Secret Santa exchange at work, but what do you get for the man who's your friend, your boss, and most importantly, the man you've been secretly in love with for years?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa's Got a Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunnysworld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnysworld/gifts).



> Written for bunnysworld, as her prize for her blackout on Tropes Bingo at Merlin Writers. She asked for Arthur/Percival fluff. I couldn't resist.

When it came down to it, Percival loved Christmas. He loved the camaraderie, the time he got to spend with the friends who were now his family, getting to go overboard buying gifts. He’d even been one of the first to sign up for the Secret Santa at PenCorp. 

He just never anticipated getting assigned the man he’d been in love with from the first day he started working here.

Percival stared at the email notification. Gwen had used an online service called Elfster to organize the whole Secret Santa program. It seemed perfect. People had signed up, linked to wishlists, talked about their likes and dislikes, and the service did the rest. Selection was purely random.

Yet, somehow, some way, a little mouse running around in Elfster’s random assignment program had thought it would be a fantastic idea to give him Arthur Pendragon. The man who’d managed to oust Cenred after Cenred had decimated Percival’s family’s holdings. The man who’d invited Percival personally to join PenCorp to manage what remains they’d assimilated. The man who greeted him every morning with a crooked smile and a hearty welcome that made it a joy to come to work.

Why was the son of the company’s owner even participating in the Secret Santa in the first place?

“This is all your fault,” Gwaine announced from the open doorway.

Hastily, Percival closed his email and swiveled around to see Gwaine saunter inside and plop down on the small couch against the wall. As usual, Gwaine had abandoned his suit jacket and tie, his white shirt opened at the collar, sleeves rolled up. He was the only one Percival knew who eschewed Uther’s dress code, but considering he was PenCorp’s top man in sales, nobody complained. “What’s my fault?”

“You’re the one who talked me into signing up for this bloody Secret Santa rubbish,” he complained. “And now I’m stuck, and it’s going to be a right nightmare, and it’s all your fault.”

Percival had to agree on the nightmare front, though he couldn’t imagine what could’ve triggered Gwaine’s dissatisfaction with the whole thing. Abandoning his computer, he came around to join Gwaine on the settee. “You liked the idea when you heard about it.”

“No, I liked the notion of two weeks of grateful shagging from whoever I impressed so much with my wonderful gift. Instead, I’m doomed to be punished for this for as long as I work here.”

“How’s that?”

“Guess who I got.”

“You’re not supposed to tell anyone.”

“The grand princess herself,” Gwaine said as if he hadn’t heard Percival’s warning. “Lucky me gets to buy a Christmas gift for the too-perfect, never satisfied with anything, Morgana Pendragon.”

Percival almost laughed. Morgana wasn’t quite as bad as all that, but Gwaine’s reaction was certainly sufficient to distract him from his own anguish about Arthur. “It won’t be that awful.”

“Not—are you kidding me? Nothing makes that woman happy. She even gets Uther tied up in knots.” He banged his head against the back of the couch. “Why is she even doing this? She’s the heir apparent. All this is supposed to be beneath her.”

“Well, technically, Arthur is—”

“It’s because of Gwen, it’s got to be. She’s almost as good as you at getting people to do what they don’t want. But seriously, what am I supposed to get this woman? She already owns half of London.”

“Does it matter?” Percival asked.

Gwaine stared at him in disbelief. “Are you off your nut? This is _Morgana_.”

“Yes, but it’s a _Secret_ Santa. The only way she’ll ever know the gift is from you is if you say something.” That wasn’t exactly true. As the organizer, Gwen had full access to everyone’s assignments, but Percival wasn’t going to tell Gwaine that. Gwen didn’t deserve to have Gwaine harassing her.

But the intent of what he’d said wormed its way through Gwaine’s upset mood. He straightened as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him.

“That’s right,” Gwaine said. “I could give her anything I wanted, and she’d never be the wiser.”

That wasn’t the direction Percival had wanted Gwaine to take. “Perhaps not—”

“Oh, this’ll be brilliant.” Gwaine popped back to his feet, a sly gleam in his eye. “Now I just have to suss out the perfect pressie for the uptight girl who’s got everything.” He clapped Percival on the shoulder. “Thanks, mate. I knew you’d help me out.”

With that, he was gone, long before Percival could even think to stop him. He almost felt bad for Morgana. Gwaine was going to have a field day with this.

But Gwaine’s sudden enthusiasm cast his own dilemma into a different light. Only Gwen would ever know Percival was Arthur’s Secret Santa. As long as he got her to promise not to tell Arthur, Percival could give him anything he wanted. He could make this as special as he’d always dreamed but never dared, spoiling Arthur as he always wanted without having to fear the inevitable rejection because he just wasn’t Arthur’s type.

(Not that he really understood what Arthur’s type was. In the time Percival had known him, Arthur had dated exactly three people – Vivian, Elena, and Merlin – none of whom had lasted for more than a month before growing weary of Arthur’s demanding schedule. Percival had actually thought Merlin might be the one to finally break Arthur of his workaholic tendencies, but not even Merlin had enough patience for that.)

With a smile, Percival rose and went back to his desk. He’d have to buy something special for Gwaine as a thank you for helping him see how advantageous this arrangement really was. This just might turn into his favorite Christmas yet.

* * *

“Sorry I’m late.” All gazes went to the door where Arthur breezed in, his jacket open, a faint sheen of perspiration visible on his forehead where the wind outside had mussed his hair. He fell into his seat next to Uther with an audible huff. “I swear, every winter, taxi drivers get more and more stupid about the traffic. I’ve just spent half an hour circling Leicester Square because the idiot kept insisting he knew an easier way to cut through.”

Uther frowned. “Where’s your driver?”

Arthur waved a hand in dismissal. “I gave George the next two weeks off to go see his family for the holidays. We shouldn’t all be miserable and stuck in London.”

Scattered chuckles went around the boardroom table. Percival ducked his head to hide his smile. Of course, Arthur had given George the time off. He was the most generous man Percival had ever known.

“Well, you haven’t missed much,” Uther said. “Leon was just filling us in on how the merger with Nemeth Industries is coming along. Leon, if you would please—”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted him. His scowl deepened when it opened and a nervous secretary scuttled inside with a uniformed messenger on her heels.

“We’re in the middle of a meeting,” Uther chastised.

“I know, I’m so sorry, but this has to be signed for and he says he can only do that with Mr. Pendragon.”

Uther rolled his eyes. “Fine, get over here.”

Neither newcomer moved. “Um, it’s for Mr. _Arthur_ Pendragon,” the secretary said.

As Arthur became the center of attention again, Percival’s stomach started to flip-flop. He’d known the delivery would be made today, but he’d hardly expected such a public display of it, let alone witnessing Arthur receive it himself. Knotting his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting and giving away the game, he watched with the others as Arthur rose again and crossed to the messenger.

“What is it?” he asked as he scribbled his signature onto the electronic tablet.

“A gift.” The messenger held out the elegantly wrapped box. “From your Secret Santa.”

“Where’s it from?” Lance asked.

Arthur tilted it to read the label. “The Whisky Exchange.”

“You sure that’s not meant for me?” Gwaine said.

While people laughed at the joke, Arthur was busy tipping the messenger and closing the door. He was halfway to his seat when Gwaine piped up again.

“Don’t leave us in suspense,” he said. “Open it up.”

Arthur glanced at his father. “After the meeting.”

“When we’ve already ground to a halt here?” Uther commented, his jaw hard. He tossed his pen onto the table and leaned back in his chair. “Go ahead, Arthur. Indulge us.”

Nobody in the room believed for a second Uther wanted the disruption, but once the edict was made, Arthur had to comply. He ran a careful finger underneath the sello at the short end of the box and peeled away the silver wrapping to expose the wooden box inside.

Arthur’s brows shot up. “I thought there was a dollar limit on the Secret Santa business.”

“There is.” Next to him, Leon stood and peered over Arthur’s shoulder. His eyebrows, too, went up. “That must be a mistake.”

“Well, now you’ve gone and intrigued me even more,” Gwaine said. “What is it?”

Arthur looked up. The surprise in his blue eyes was exactly what Percival had hoped for. “A thirty-year-old Balvenie.”

“What?” His irritation forgotten, Uther joined the others on their feet and took the cask out of Arthur’s hands to read it himself. “This costs nearly two thousand pounds. Who on earth would spend that much on a silly Secret Santa?”

“And why didn’t they spend it on me?” Gwaine complained.

Percival jabbed him in the side. “You loved that salon gift basket.”

“I would’ve loved a two thousand quid whisky even more.”

Arthur took the whisky back and folded the wrapping paper around it again. “I’ll talk to Gwen. She’ll clear it up. I’d hate to think someone’s about to get a charge that’s a hundred times more than they expect.”

As the meeting resumed, Percival kept his eyes on the report in front of him instead of sneaking glances at Arthur. No, the charge was exactly what he’d intended. Arthur had been pining to have a Balvenie of his own for almost a year now, ever since he’d got a taste of one on New Year’s at Vivian’s family’s party. He’d dragged Percival, Gwaine, and Leon along for company on the pretense they’d keep him from doing something stupid in the wake of Merlin leaving, but all he’d been able to talk about all night was the whisky.

It was expensive, yes, but Arthur was worth it. Provided Gwen didn’t muck up the secret part of the exchange when he questioned her.

* * *

“No, it’s not a mistake.”

Gwen seemed entirely unperturbed by Arthur’s invasion, even with Percival, Gwaine, and Leon in tow. The four of them crowded the front of her desk, the whisky sitting in the space between them, while she simply smiled up at them.

“How can you be sure?” Arthur said.

“Because I got a note saying not to be surprised by the price point.” She didn’t even glance in Percival’s direction, a detail he could kiss her for. He’d known that by spending so much he would draw her attention, so he’d gone to her first with his intended gift idea.

“And you didn’t try and talk the person out of it?”

She hadn’t. At the time, Percival had written it off as luck, but now he wondered if she knew more about his feelings for Arthur than she’d let on.

“That’s not my call,” Gwen said.

Arthur folded his arms over his chest. “Well, I can’t accept it.”

Percival’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t supposed to play out this way. He wanted Arthur to enjoy the whisky, not get all noble about the cost.

“Arthur.” Gwen pushes the gift closer to him. “Take it. I know it’s extravagant, but I can assure you that your Secret Santa had the best intentions. Besides, it could be worse. Just ask Morgana.”

Arthur snorted, while Gwaine and Leon both laughed. Morgana had come out of her office that morning wielding the red leather cat o’nine tails she’d received. At lunch, Gwaine told Percival there had also been a pair of crotchless panties and a matching bustier, though he doubted those would survive Morgana’s wrath about the gift.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to tell me who it is so I could thank him or her properly.”

Gwen smiled. “Nope.”

“Damn,” he muttered. Then, he sighed. “Fine. I’m taking it. But just so you know, I’m not going to stop trying to find out. This is a big deal, whether they think it is or not.”

Percival was the last to walk out. As he closed the door, he shot Gwen a quick nod in gratitude, then hustled away before one of the others noticed.

“All right, which one of you talked and to whom?” Arthur said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Why do you think it’s one of us?” Leon asked.

“Because we’re the lot who got stuck making sure his drunk ass got home after that New Year’s party,” Gwaine replied.

“ _We’re_ the ones who got him home,” Percival corrected, gesturing between himself and Leon. “ _You’re_ the one who spent the night with Vivian’s little sister.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t remember the spectacle Arthur made with that whisky.” Gwaine looked pointedly at Arthur. “I can think of at least two people who were there who work for us now, so don’t go blaming this on us.”

Arthur sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.” They stopped in front of Gwaine’s office. “And one of these days, you’ll actually remember that so I don’t have to remind you again.”

With a laugh, Arthur resumed walking, Leon at his side. When Percival moved to join them, Gwaine touched his arm to catch his attention.

“If you want that tenner I owe you, stick around,” he said.

Though he had no idea what money Gwaine was talking about, Percival nodded and followed him into his office. 

“Two thousand quid?” Gwaine said once the door was shut. “Are you kidding me?”

Percival jerked straight, caught out by Gwaine’s sudden questions. His heart thundered against his ribs as he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gwaine perched on the edge of his desk. “Yes, you do.”

“You said yourself, anyone at that party would’ve known about the Balvenie.”

“I was talking bollocks, and you know it. ‘Fess up, Perc. I know it was you. Nobody else would spend that much on Arthur.”

“Morgana would.”

Gwaine cocked a brow without saying a word.

Percival sagged against the door and squeezed his eyes shut. This was one of his worst nightmares come true. He couldn’t have the truth about his feelings for Arthur coming out to the company. It would put too great a strain on their friendship, their business relationship, and his position within the firm. He didn’t want to lose what he already had for something that was never going to be.

“I just wanted to get him something I knew he’d love,” he said softly.

“Of course, you did.” Surprisingly, Gwaine’s tone matched his. “And I can’t say I can blame you. If I was in your shoes, I probably would’ve done something similar. Though I would’ve kept the whisky for myself.”

The lack of condemnation coaxed Percival to look at Gwaine again. “Am I that obvious?”

“No,” Gwaine assured. “I just know you better than anyone. The only part I don’t get is why you haven’t done anything about it. It’s not like Arthur’s entirely straight.”

Voicing the fears that had just choked him was impossible. The best he could manage was, “I’m not you.”

“Shame, that. You’d be having a lot more fun, otherwise.”

“Like you did picking out Morgana’s gift?”

Gwaine laughed. “Tell me that wasn’t perfect.”

“You’re lucky Gwen’s such a good sport.”

But Gwaine shrugged it off. “The Pendragons want to be the center of the universe, who are we to deny them that, huh?”

Percival would’ve argued Arthur simply wanted to achieve to the best of his abilities, but considering he’d been the one to put Arthur in the spotlight with the whisky, he didn’t have a logical leg to stand on.

* * *

By the end of the day, gossip about Arthur’s present was lost in everybody’s chatter about their own gifts. It felt like Christmas, no matter where Percival turned, all the way until Elyan asked what Percival had received.

“Don’t know,” he said with a good-natured smile. “I haven’t got mine yet.”

A chorus of “No!”s echoed through the group in the break room, while Elyan glanced at the clock on the wall. “There must’ve been some mix-up,” he said. “The day’s over. If your Secret Santa was going to be late, Gwen should’ve told you.”

“Gwen has more important things to worry about than my Secret Santa.”

“Well, that’s not right.” Pushing back from the table, Elyan rose and marched for the doorway. “Let’s get this sorted.”

Percival caught up to him before he made it two steps outside the room. “Don’t. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”

“And you’re just going to sit back and wait for it to come to you?” Elyan shook his head. “You’re being too nice about this. As usual.”

“I’m choosing to have faith,” he countered. “If I can’t trust people at Christmas, when can I?”

But his argument didn’t assuage Elyan’s irritation about the situation, though at least he gave up on cornering Gwen. “Will you at least promise me that you’ll talk to her tomorrow if it doesn’t come through?”

That still seemed too extreme considering getting a gift was hardly important to Percival, but he gave Elyan his word anyway. It very well could be a simple mix-up, after all, and Gwen would feel guilty if it was something she should’ve fixed and didn’t. Percival wasn’t the only one in the company with an over-developed sense of responsibility.

On his way back to his office, Morgana came out of a conference room with her head bowed, her fingers flying over the tablet she carried. Somehow, she’d hooked the cat o’nine tails to her belt so the leather strips swished softly against her thigh as she walked. Percival had to abruptly sidestep to avoid a collision, though Morgana startled to a halt after passing him.

She turned around to regard him with a frown. “Have you seen Arthur?”

“Not since the meeting after lunch. Why?”

“He was supposed to give me the figures I need for the Balor surveys. I can’t authorize any more development until we’ve got the guaranties regarding the wildlife, and I wanted to get that done before the holidays.”

“If I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.” With a chuckle, he nodded toward the whip. “I’ll even warn him you’ll use that if he’s not quick about it, if you want.”

Morgana laughed, her fingers straying to the strands to play with them. “Oh, I have someone else in mind for this. Not that Arthur isn’t tempting, but I don’t think he’ll appreciate the rest of my present like the person I have in mind will.”

“I don’t want to know,” he said, holding his hands up.

She shrugged. “Your loss. Have a good night, Percival.”

Percival waved her off and resumed his route to his office. When he rounded the corner, someone behind him called his name.

Leon jogged to catch up when Percival looked back. “You have a few minutes to look over this report from Nemeth for me? I want a second set of eyes on it before I pass it along to Uther.”

Considering the Nemeth discussion had been fraught with such drama during their meeting, Percival didn’t blame him. Uther wasn’t fond of the holidays as it was, and after the interruptions, he’d been on the warpath even more. A single error would set him off more easily than usual.

Helping Leon took another half hour off the end of his day. Most of the lights were off when Percival finally made it back to his office, so he fell onto his couch with a weary sigh and loosened his tie. He wanted to say it had been a great day, but Arthur’s response to his gift had tarnished it a little. He couldn’t even be sure Arthur would end up keeping it. The extravagance—even if Percival didn’t consider it one—might be too much to overlook.

Percival closed his eyes. Gwaine was probably right, though he could never tell him that. He should’ve shot lower with his present. At least then he could be sure Arthur would accept it.

A soft knock came at his open door, and he opened his eyes to see Gwen hovering on the threshold. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said. “I was afraid you’d gone home for the day.”

“Not yet.” Percival scooted over in case she wanted to come in and sit down. “What do you want?”

Her fingers twisted together. “It’s about your Secret Santa gift.”

His heart lodged in his throat. “Did he take it back?”

A tiny line appeared between her brows before they shot up. “Oh, no! Not about that. About the one you’re supposed to get.”

Relief flooded through him. “Oh. After everything…” He shook his head, brushing aside his earlier fears. “Never mind. It’s been a very long day.”

Gwen didn’t seem appeased by his lack of concern, though. “I just hate telling you there’s been a problem with your assignment. I didn’t even realize until a few minutes ago—”

“Elyan didn’t say anything, did he?”

“No, I found the glitch on my own. I’m so sorry, Percival.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m fine with not getting anything.” It wasn’t why he’d signed up.

“But I feel just terrible. Will you let me make it up to you? Let me buy you dinner tonight. It’s not the same, I know, but it’ll make me feel better knowing you got _something_.”

He had half a mind to protest. Gwen so rarely made mistakes, it could hardly be held against her that this one time something had slipped through the cracks. It wasn’t her responsibility to give him anything.

The stricken look on her face said otherwise. And he knew that turning her down would only make her feel worse.

“All right. I’ve got to eat anyway.”

All her tension dissipated as he rose and gathered his things. When she started chattering on about her plans with Lance for Christmas, he blocked out the events of the day to focus on enjoying a few hours with a friend, without any expectations or judgment and certainly nothing that might remind him of Arthur. He sidestepped her questions about his own holiday arrangements, keeping the conversation about her until they reached the street.

“I know this place a couple blocks away,” she said when he began to look for a taxi. “Great food, and never gets too crowded.”

They began to walk. “If the food’s so good, why isn’t it mobbed?”

“One of the best kept secrets in London.” Gwen flashed him a smile. “Part of why I love it.”

The winter chill kept more conversation at bay until they reached the door of a small Italian place Percival couldn’t remember ever seeing before. His hopes about Gwen’s choice soared, but when he opened the door for her to enter first, she hesitated.

“Damn,” she said. “I forgot something at the office. Do you mind grabbing a table while I run and get it?”

The smells wafting out made his stomach growl, but he offered anyway. “I can run back if you like.”

“No, no, I’ll spend more time telling you where it is than it’ll take for me to get it myself.” She made a shooing motion to the door. “Go. I won’t be but a few minutes.”

Gwen darted off before he could stop her. His appetite won out over any remaining gallantry.

The restaurant was intimate and, as Gwen predicted, not overpopulated with patrons. The shaded windows probably had something to do with that, as well as the lack of proper signage to announce how delicious their menu really was. Candles flickered in the middle of the small tables, creating a more sensual ambience, but as Percival looked around, he spotted a familiar set of broad shoulders at one of the few booths against the wall.

“Arthur?”

Arthur turned at the sound of his voice, a wide smile erupting at the sight of him. Rising, he took a step closer, then hesitated, shifting his stance so he could sweep a hand toward the table. “Have a seat. I haven’t ordered anything yet, though that was getting harder to avoid the longer I waited. It smells fantastic, doesn’t it?”

Waving off the approaching hostess, Percival went to Arthur’s side. “You were waiting?”

Some of the joy faded from Arthur’s smile. “I was early. The thought of doing busy work just to kill time gave me a headache. Not that I could’ve paid much attention to it. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” He paused. “I hope that doesn’t make me look too much like a nob.”

That was the last word he’d ever use to describe Arthur. “Of course not.”

“So sit. Relax. Dates are supposed to be fun.”

He was halfway down, obeying Arthur’s orders without thinking, when the last statement sank in. His flesh froze, though his heart rate took a runner. “A date.”

Panic filled Arthur’s eyes. “Isn’t that what this is?”

“I…Gwen. She’s…” His gaze strayed to the window, his mind racing. This had been Gwen’s choice of restaurant, Gwen’s request he join her for dinner. Gwen, who never made administrative mistakes, who would’ve noticed Percival hadn’t been assigned long before the day the gifts were to be exchanged. His attention swung back to Arthur. “Are you my Secret Santa?” he blurted.

Arthur looked shocked at the question. “No, though I would’ve loved that. I would’ve much preferred shopping for you than Gaius.”

“Did Gwen send you here?” That would make sense if she was his Secret Santa instead.

“No, Morgana—” His cheeks went red. “Bloody hell, I’m going to kill her this time. I’m so sorry she dragged you into this, Perc.”

Percival flopped into the booth, trying to process the apology. “I don’t understand. You thought I was meeting you for a date?”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur slid back into his seat. “This was not how I saw tonight going at all,” he muttered. He toyed with the crystal salt shaker at the center of the table, choosing to look at it rather than Percival. “Look, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to take it at face value and not read more into it that might upset you, all right?”

He could hardly imagine Arthur saying anything that would upset him, beyond the worst of his nightmares about his friendship. Tamping down his nerves, he said, “You can trust me with anything, Arthur.”

Arthur fidgeted in his seat, clearing his throat before he spoke again. “I’ve tried asking you out at least a half dozen times over the past few months and chickened out as soon as I opened my mouth. So when Morgana told me yesterday she’d got my Christmas present early, and that she’d arranged for a date with you, it seemed like the perfect solution. It felt like the best Christmas gift ever.”

Percival couldn’t breathe. “Your idea of the best Christmas includes me?”

“Yes.”

When Arthur abandoned the salt and started to pull his hand back, Percival reached to catch it before he could completely withdraw. Arthur jerked at the unexpected touch, but the blue eyes he lifted sparked with faint hope again.

“You’re more than a friend to me,” Percival said softly. “But I was too afraid of saying anything in case you didn’t feel the same way.”

Arthur burst out laughing. Twisting his wrist, he entangled their fingers together, his warmth and strength banishing any indecision that might’ve lingered. “We’re a real pair of gits, aren’t we? We wasted all this time.”

Percival joined in. “I spent all afternoon convinced you were going to figure out how I felt and that I’d completely bollocksed it up.”

“How so?”

“The whisky.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “That was you?”

“I wanted to give you something special.”

“You’re here,” Arthur said. “That’s my something special.” His grin was more than a little wicked. “But nothing says we can’t make it more special by sharing a drink back at my place after dinner.”

Percival only nodded. He wasn’t capable of more speech yet. Nothing could touch his high right now, because Arthur had it exactly right. This would be the best Christmas ever.

* * *

As he darted in out of the snow that had begun overnight, Percival saw the lift doors start to close and made a mad dash to catch it first. His arm shot out at the same time a slim hand appeared to hold the doors at bay, giving him the necessary seconds to slide inside.

“Thanks,” he said automatically. His smile widened when he realized it was Morgana who had held the lift for him. “Good morning.”

Her knowing gaze swept up and down his body. After running back to his flat at dawn, he hadn’t had time to do more than change his clothes before heading into the office. Courtesy of a long, exhausting, wonderful night with Arthur.

“It looks like you had an evening just as entertaining as mine,” she commented. “Is Arthur even going to bother coming in today?”

Percival couldn’t be embarrassed about it since she’d been the one to orchestrate the whole set-up. “He plans to, yes. And thank you, by the way.” He’d figured out before dessert that Morgana had to be his Secret Santa. She must’ve co-opted Gwen, and possibly even Leon, to insure her arrangements went according to plan. It turned out Gwaine wasn’t the only observant person in the company, though that didn’t matter now that he knew Arthur shared his feelings.

“It was my pleasure,” she said. “Frankly, I was a little tired of you two dancing around each other. If I hadn’t got one of you, I would’ve traded with whoever did to make it happen.”

Morgana was probably the one person Gwen would’ve broken her rules for, too.

When the doors slid open, Percival edged aside to let Morgana get off first. She took two steps toward her office, then turned back to him.

“Do me a favor, will you, please?” At his nod, she went on, “Tell Gwaine I expect him at seven sharp this time. If he’s late again, he’ll have to be punished.” Her mouth curved. “Though between you and me, I think he prefers it that way.”

She strode off, leaving Percival gobsmacked. He hadn’t seen that one coming. He wasn’t sure Gwaine could have, either. 

Apparently this Christmas, there were no more secrets for any of PenCorp’s Santas.


End file.
